


Meaner and Meaner, Until It's Real: An ATLA FanFiction

by EraserJester



Series: Sad Prince Tellings: ATLA FanFictions [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angry Zuko (Avatar), Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear, Gen, Guilt, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Protective Iroh (Avatar), Shame, Zuko (Avatar) whump, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, anger issues, anger problems, zuko has anger issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29771886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EraserJester/pseuds/EraserJester
Summary: Zuko has always been the better actor, between him and Azula. He can put on a mask quicker, better, swifter, and just as deadly.Hakoda is worried.While Zuko's ferocious strengths will take him far on the streets, it doesn't do at all, when he's the ruler of a Nation. And while he's lashing out at simple robbers for the time being, he needs someone to help him control whatever it is-anger, hurt, shame, and fear.
Series: Sad Prince Tellings: ATLA FanFictions [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2188119
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	Meaner and Meaner, Until It's Real: An ATLA FanFiction

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine Zuko as a Fire Lord, stressing over the severity of punishments. I also imagine that he stresses a lot about his appearance as a benevolent ruler. Think of this fic as Zuko struggling over certain morals and when too much pain is too much to inflict.
> 
> Also-sorry in advance, Lieutenant Jee.

Zuko watched with horrified pause, as Azula turned one of the turtle-ducks upside down. The poor creature feebly wiggled about, trying to use it's large head to turn itself over. The two siblings sat together as the turtle-duck eventually righted itself and toddled back towards its mother. "That's you, Zu-Zu."

"The turtle-duck? Me?"

"Yeah. Small, fluffy-" she tugs at his ponytail, messing up his hair in the process. "-kinda weird."

Zuko can't really come up with a rebuttal, and he says nothing.

His sister is pretty cool. She can do a cartwheel, she can firebend really well, she's smart, and she has Mai and Ty Lee. Zuko kind of wishes he could be like her. It's times like these, that he forgets he's the oldest, he's the brother, and he's the heir.

—-

Zuko tries. He tries so hard. He gets up one hour earlier, to stretch and practice his meditation in an effort to improve his katas. He sits at his desk and rereads his scrolls for as long as he can, until his eyelids are heavy and his back is aching. He's friends with Ty Lee but she's a little too cheerful with him sometimes; it makes him want some alone time. Mai's okay, but he can barely have a basic conversation with her before one of them blushes, looks away, stutters a little too much (the list goes on).

Oh, but Zu-Zu's always been the better actor, between him and Azula. When she makes him the Dark Water Spirit again, he slips into the role as easily as it is to change hats. He can even mimic the eerie whistle, an old wive's tale describing the sound of a Spirit breathing, that's meant to scare children into sleep (Zuko won't tell anyone that the old cook taught him how to whistle like that).

Of course, it's always been easy for him to switch roles; when Azula finally 'kills' him in their play, he exaggerates his fake wounds and proclaims his loss, right before tackling his sister and tickling her. "Gotcha! I, the Dark Water Spirit, defeat you with the secret art of tickles!"

And then, Ursa would come into their room and gently separate them while laughing, and the three would dissolve into giggles.

Unfortunately, he can't keep his mouth shut in his father's War Room, that fateful day. Acting can't save him then.

—-

Zuko is so angry. His face is burning, in physical burnt pain, in embarrassment, in teenage angsty-anger, in anger in general. He wants to rip of his bandage and burn it to ashes, he wants to scream at the world.

Iroh is, well, he's Iroh. He's the tea-loving old man.

And he won't teach Zuko any new katas.

"Uncle, just teach me a new move, goddamnit!" Zuko refrains himself from bringing his hands down on the metal railing of his ship; he's learned from firsthand experience that it does him more harm than anyone else.

He opts for lashing out at the cheap, plain teacups used by the ship's crew. They're a single copper piece for three, and no one misses them (they can easily replace the cups at the nearest shipping port). It's satisfying, the way the unmarked cups smash into little shards on the metal floor. Someone else will clean them up later. Zuko has thought of breaking Uncle's prized teacups, though he doesn't plan on following through with it. He's not _that_ stupid.

Iroh waits for Zuko's fit to be over before speaking. "Nephew, please refine your meditation and stretches."

"Argh!" He stomps off, to the other side of the small ship. He sits down and places his hands on his knees, and closes his eyes.

He can not meditate.

There's too much noise. The rumbling of the boiler downstairs, the sound as waves crash against the steel ship, the clank of armour and boots, the way some of the soldiers talk. Far off, there is the screech of a jay-hawk.

But Zuko is a prideful person, and he knows Uncle is watching him over the rim of his stupid little teacup, so he stays still, with closed eyes, angry thoughts boiling until they're all that occupy his brain.

He thinks of destroying his sad excuse for a room on the ship; it's bare, without any of the splendour someone would have expected for a Prince. Yes, that would feel nice, to watch it burn down. He flexes his fingers, thinking of how a flick of his wrist and some oil could make the room go up in flames. Zuko's thoughts turn to people. Ugh, Zhao, what Zuko would give to punch that stupid admiral in the face. He quietly hums to himself, imagining yanking at Zhao's sideburns.

To be precise, Zuko's not mad at his mom. He's not furious. It's a low spike that's constantly lodged in his heart, and one wrong laugh or free moment is tinged with pain as he remembers the caring life he had when he was younger. In his mind, his mother is gone but not dead, if that makes any difference.

He thinks of a darker revenge, one that's been nothing but embers in his brain and hasn't had the time to fire up. Against a man that has cost Zuko his love, his pride, his dignity, and his skin itself.

A hand taps Zuko on the shoulder, on his left side. He whirls about, spooked and teeth bared, an extremely undesirable thing to be seen on a disgraced prince. The timid soldier who's disturbed him stumbles back, eyes wide and knees shaking.

Zuko can catch himself before he screams. He brushes past the soldier and Iroh and heads towards his room, but not before he hears Lieutenant Jee mutter to the nervous soldier, "stay away from him for now, Li. He gets into tantrums often." Zuko slammed the door to his room with extra force before collapsing against it, sitting on the floor.

How _dare_ Jee call it a tantrum. He hadn't even done anything!

Well, to be fair, he _had_ broken a cup...but it wasn't even an expensive cup!

—-

Zuko wants blue fire, like Azula. He wants fire that illuminates every move, that intimidates every person who meets him. He wants control over his firebending, he wants power.

He starts small. Zuko stretches a hand towards the candle beside him; he takes some of its fire and cups it in his hands. Right now, it's red, a little bit orange. The first step is turning it paler, into yellow and white. It takes more effort than he likes but sure enough, the fire in his palms becomes more concentrated, into yellow, then white in the middle. Drops of sweat fall from Zuko's forehead; he's painfully aware of the bandages surrounding his face, with soft and unhealed skin underneath.

No matter to that now. He's at a totally white flame, and it shouldn't be an issue to progress to an even hotter flame. The air is hot and dry at this point; it feels like Zuko's right next to the boiler. But no matter how much he tries, he can't make the flame entirely blue. Every so often he'll get a tongue of flame that flashes blue, before reverting to the white ball of fire once again.

Damnit, why can't he get it? It's taxing his muscles and energy just to maintain the white flame, and he can't hold it up for long.

_Knock, knock._

"Zuko?"

Zuko presses a palm against the ground in an effort to extinguish the flame, rather dizzily. When he retracts his hand to rub his face, he's noticed a faint handprint has been burned into the floor. "Yes, Uncle?"

"Would you like to practice your katas again?"

A quick glance towards his sand-glass tells Zuko that he's been in his room for a little more than thirty minutes. Huh, he'd been practicing longer than he thought. "Sure."

—-

Jee isn't the meanest man, but that doesn't mean he's the kindest, either. Definitely doesn't mean he's the best. After all, he's stuck with the banished Prince. Anyone affiliated with Zuko's outlandish quest for the Avatar certainly isn't the highest grade material.

But Agni, he's been in the navy for most of his life, and he's done what most soldiers have done; he's fought. For a very long time.

He's good at it too, or else he wouldn't have survived this long. He leads exceptionally well; his orders are loud, precise, and easy to execute. He levelheaded, not swayed by gore or the sickly bandage over Zuko's face. He's not giving out to mercy anytime soon.

That's what makes him the worst opponent, in Zuko's opinion.

"Go!" Iroh sits by the side. He never participates.

Zuko starts off strong, with what he's been taught since he was young. Big, simple kicks, punches that are for more power and less flare. Little to no fakes. A rather bland practice, really.

Jee just does what he's been told to do; be a nuisance. He uses his middle-aged strength against thirteen year old Zuko with practiced ease. One powerful fireball sends Zuko to a knee (he gets up, quickly enough to dodge the next one).

There's something about it, that rubs Zuko wrong.

Ah. That's it.

The man is _bored_. He is so, so, dreadfully _bored_ of this practice. All Jee wants to do is sit in his office and smoke sage lilyweeds while Zuko goes on with his fruitless Avatar search.

Azula's tutors were never bored. In fact, her opponents were usually scared witless before the match.

And maybe Zuko is immature, maybe he's stupid (right now he is), maybe he's scared of the life he'll live out on sea if he never finds the Avatar.

He cheats.

Zuko runs close to Jee, close to the fire, while his body is screaming at him to turn the other way. He jumps, just a few feet in the air, before wrapping his hands around Jee's waist and bringing him onto the metal floor of the ship in a harsh _bang_ as Jee's armour uncomfortably jolts him against the ground.

Now would usually be when the practice ends, when they get ready for round two.

But Zuko is an angry child.

A strong child.

He punches Jee in the face. Hard.

It's hard to distinguish blood from the red shade of the training gloves and armour but there's a sick sound of a _squelch_ as Zuko punches Jee again, and again.

He is so _angry_ and he doesn't know why, but he knows he can take it out on Jee-

There's a strong force that suddenly yanks him away from Jee; he's being restrained, he's trying unsuccessfully to move his arms forward, for his legs to kick out. two more soldiers come up on deck and they lift the Lieutenant onto a stretcher and take him downstairs where they came from. Jee's face is red, an absolute mess from where Zuko can see (he can't see much. The bandage is annoying him, it's blocking half of his vision, and it has begun to unravel, loosening into bands of white cloth that fall around his neck.

The person holding him back is Iroh. He's surprisingly strong for such a fat old man. He shoves Zuko to the ground and he stands over his nephew, breathing harshly. "Stay down, Zuko." He turns away, following the soldiers who had taken Jee downstairs earlier. "Don't come downstairs."

Iroh's face is dark and scary, and Zuko doesn't want to think of him as Uncle right now.

He's relatively undamaged, and so the Prince of the Fire Nation spent a few hours sightseeing birds as he sat alone, on the deck. His bandages are on the floor; he's ripped them off. Right now, he doesn't care about his eye.

He doesn't want to think about Jee's face, or Jee in general.

_Are you proud of me, Azula?_

Zuko wants to jump overboard and never look back.

—-

Uncle doesn't come upstairs. Neither do any of the other soldiers.

Zuko doesn't go downstairs. He's a prideful child. He stays up the night on the deck, but he doesn't sleep. He just stares at the stares, and he wonders if his mother is up there, or if she's still alive, somewhere in the world without her children.

He wakes up in the morning as the sun rises (like always) and gingerly touches his left cheek. The skin there is disgustingly stiff. He's lucky he's not in front of a mirror.

Uncle still hasn't come upstairs. The deck feels cold and lonely, without Iroh's miscellaneous tea set and his bumbling words that never made sense.

Of course, someone has to come up eventually. It's Uncle.

When Zuko hears the squeak of a door, he doesn't turn towards it. He angles his ear towards the direction, and when he hears the soft _pad pad pad_ of slippers and not the clicks of military boots, he knows it's Uncle.

He still doesn't turn. He stays at the corner of the ship, unwilling to turn. He is a stupid, prideful, child.

The smell of incense is getting more strong, and Uncle is close to him. "Lieutenant Jee has a broken nose, bruises, and a black eye. He will make a full recovery in a month."

Zuko wants have a tactful reply, a smart reply, something to get him out of this mess. But he can't speak; he feels like he wants to throw up. He looks down, at the waves gently rolling against the hull of the ship. The movement only makes him feel worse.

"You may see him, if you wish." And then Uncle goes back downstairs, giving Zuko the cold independence that he's always feared.

—-

Jee has not had his nose broken before.

 _There's a first time for everything_ he thinks ruefully, as one of the soldiers bring him more water that he struggles to swallow. "Mhm. Thanks, Li."

Li is twenty two years old and taller than Jee but Agni, is he skittish. He's pale all the time, and Jee suspects Li might have more than a touch of seasickness. "Are you..okay, Lieutenant? Sir?"

Jee lets one of his hands play with a small steel elephant-rhino. It was originally dusty grey, but the back has been rubbed so much it's a bright copper now. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine. Well-" he touches his nose. Black spots appear in front of him, as well as a wave of pain. "-the healing process will be a piece of work" he grimaces. "But no lasting damages to me."

"You're so...stoic. Relaxed." Li hoped his hysteria didn't seep into his voice. "Sir, you've just had your nose broken, by a.. _a child_."

"I know. I was there" Jee jokes, just before shuddering as his nose feels like it might explode. "You forget, Li. A heir to the Fire Nation cannot be a child and a Prince at the same time. One will always override the other."

—-

At night, a note is slipped underneath Jee's door, but it is Li who finds it the next morning as he greets the Lieutenant. "..You've got a letter, Sir. From-" Li flips the folded piece of paper around. "-Zuko? His Highness?"

"Well, don't just stand there, Li. Give it to me." Lieutenant opens it, while Li sits beside him on a stool.

_Lieutenant Jee,_

_Sorry. I won't do that again. Ever._

_I hope your nose is okay._

_Sorry, again._

_I'll allow you to buy more wine and lilyweed than usual, the next time we're at a trading port._

_I'm really sorry._

_-Zuko_

And underneath Zuko's name, at the bottom of the letter, is a very poorly drawn frowny face. The only way Jee can tell it's Zuko is the scribbles around the left eye, meaning to represent his scar.

"Well, at least I'll be able to get drunk and high next time we dock" Jee chuckled. "Don't look so down, Li. I'll share some drinks with you. Say, have you ever smoked lilyweed before?"

"No, I'm not angry about that or anything!" Li defended himself. "And no, I'm not looking forward to smoke anytime soon. It's just..." he couldn't seem to pull the correct words out of his mind. "It's just that this kid, the same age as my sister, decides to break your nose, and beat you up, then, they send you a 'sorry' note?"

Jee sighed. "That's just how it is sometimes, in the Hundred Year War. I guess Zuko inherited his father's temper."

He didn't elaborate.

—-

Sure enough, in a month, they dock at a trading port, and Lieutenant Jee is so incoherent by the end of it that his men tie him up and lead him back to the ship like a bedraggled maniac.

Jee doesn't bother training with Zuko that much anymore; Iroh has made sure of it.

But as the banished prince grows older, Jee notices that the rage in Zuko hasn't dimmed, not ever. He's just better masked it, if that's a better way to say it.

—-

Iroh finds letters in Zuko's room.

They're all written by the boy himself.

He didn't mean to find them. They were just out in the open one day, on his bed. Iroh knows it's not his place to be nosy, and so he goes to close the door, but on the outside of one of the letters are words that seem to pull him closer. One of them reads, _To Uncle._

Iroh discreetly flips open the letter addressed to him.

On the inside is nothing but erratic scribbles covering the entire page; there's a small hole in the center of the letter that implies Zuko might have poked the quill through the paper while scribbling. There are no words.

Iroh closes the letter and leaves it beside the rest. He spots one paper written _To Mother._

He does not open that. There are a few more letters near those, and he does not touch those either.

—-

Zuko usually stays on the ship when they dock at a trading port, but he's made exceptions, like that time it was Jee's birthday and the Lieutenant begged Zuko to celebrate with the rest of the crew in a bar on an Earth Kingdom Isle, or that other time where Uncle wanted him to try out this new tea blend that had originated in that certain area.

It's hard for someone like him to go around unnoticed, but now, Zuko muses to himself as he sits in a pub surrounded by scarred outlaws, he fits right in.

Most of the crew are getting themselves wasted for the night on the other side of town, and Uncle's either with them or on the ship. He chose this time to get some fresh air, but now that he furtively glances around, this might not have been the best place for peace and quiet.

There's an arm-wrestling contest going on a few feet from Zuko, and the two men make the table and the ground around them shake with each twitch. He tightens the cloak and hood around himself a little firmer, so none of the bar patrons get a look at his yellow eyes.

Of course, there have always been mistakes, between the soldiers and the townsfolk.

Zuko knocks back a shot of wisteria spirits, and he shudders at the bitter aftertaste that floods his mouth. His sixteenth birthday is coming up, and from the way Jee's been looking forward to it, Zuko guesses he should hold a higher tolerance for alcohol.

He never thought he'd be in the back alley that night, beating two men who were twice his size and age. They had probably tried to take him to a secluded spot, in order to rob him of what little money he'd brought from the ship. Of course, they probably didn't expect their would-be victim was a pissed prince.

It felt horrifyingly good to push them to the ground, and shove their backs, dirtying their faces in the filthy muddy ground, to hear their sounds of surprise and defeat. It was similar to that time he'd finally defeated Lu Ten in a game of chess, in fact. Some sort of childish happiness, but right now a dim part of his mind wondered if he was going to turn into a sadist.

_Like Azula._

He ran away and hid on the ship, waiting for the rest of his crew to come back.

—-

After the whole fiasco at the Northern Water Tribe, Zuko wants to banish all memories of that place. But he can't, for a dark place in his mind is glad that Zhao is gone, dragged underwater by the spirits.

—-

It feels exhilaratingly ecstatic for Zuko to duel Jet, amongst the nervous stares of Earth Kingdom onlookers.

Azula never learned how to use blades.

Zuko plants a foot into Jet's chest and sends him flying, crashing into a wall.

_I am going to make you hurt._

The Dai Li ruin his fun.

—-

Zuko tries so damn hard at the Western Air Temple. He tries to fit in. He chuckles awkwardly, when Toph punches him in the arm. He looks away and makes himself scarce, when Katara is in a bad mood (or just annoyed). He pinches his nose and tries not to lose his temper with Aang and Sokka, both who are much ore immature than he had thought.

He goes to the Sun Temple with Aang, and the chief there looks at Zuko without an inch of fear. He's seen the hate inside Zuko and he does not want to do with it. After Zuko and Aang dance with the dragons, they are treated to a feast and during that time, the chief whispers in the Prince's ear, "you'd better do away with that evil inside your heart, boy. Your Nation will crumble under a weak rule, more than it already has."

—-

Hakoda watches Prince Zuko battle Azula while balancing precariously on the top of the trolley. Ty Lee and Suki are also engaged in a fight.

The Chief of the Southern Water Tribe is well versed in hand-to-hand combat, but that still doesn't prepare him when he watches Zuko and Azula, two children, fight with roars and screams and _fire_ that's intended to kill. Sokka tries to help, but most of the time he's getting yanked back as Zuko diffuses yet another blast of fire thrown at them.

He can see how much force is behind Zuko's punches; one direct hit could probably fracture a rib. But Princess Azula is swift and smart, and she retaliates, with smothering blue fire that's sure to burn the skin clean off.

—-

After the breakout from the Boiling Rock, they need to go down to town in order to get more food and other supplies. Hakoda, Chit Sang, and Zuko are chosen, for some strange reason. Aang and Toph are off doing whatever earthbenders do, Sokka was fishing (trying to), and Katara didn't seem to like the pressuring atmosphere around seedy markets.

Zuko is weirdly good at bargaining, and he scores a bushel of lychees and a bag of rice for half the original price. Then, he haggles until he's got a packet of dried meat for two silver coins. The merchant isn't happy, but staring at Zuko's burnt face, he relents. The child looks much older than he really is. He's not tall, really. Shorter than Hakoda and dwarfed by Chit Sang. But it's the face. Where there might have been a chubby adolescent face, perhaps with a few pimples, is a burn that erases all identify and an angry scowl.

They pass eyes full of scorn and distrust, and they are not wrong to think that. Hakoda's deep blue eyes have almost never been seen around, and the two firebenders still don tattered prison uniforms.

Chit Sang hefts the bag of rice over his shoulder, while Hakoda holds the lychees. The meat is in Zuko's hand. They made good time, and they should be back at the Western Air Temple soon.

Of course, there's always someone more foolish than the rest.

As they round a corner into an alley, it's as if they know something is wrong. The pinprick feeling of eyes watching, they way the hair on the back of their neck stands up.

There's just enough time for Zuko to yank Hakoda away by the collar, just as someone with a metal bar leaps and swings towards them. The attacker isn't fazed by the dodge and simply jumps towards them once more.

Any one of them could have defeated the robber. Chit Sang could have simply delivered a hard punch to the solar plexus, while Hakoda was no stranger to trip-ups and quick attacks.

It was Zuko. He lands a devastating blow to the shoulder before using the most unorthodox methods Hakoda's ever seen used by a Prince. He then shoves the robber against the wall, making sure to take advantage of the hard and gritty stone walls that are sure to rip skin.

And he begins to twist one of the attacker's arms.

Slowly. Until he's gritting his teeth from the pain, and then he finally surrenders with a scared shout. "Damnit, you caught me, let me go!"

"Nope." The way Zuko's going, Hakoda thinks the boy might break the robber's arm. He lightly touches Zuko on the shoulder. "Let him go. We need to be back at the Temple."

Zuko looks like he might disagree, but he relents.

Or, it looks like he is.

As the robber tries to scramble away, Zuko rears into a punch, one that hits him in the back of the neck. The poor robber drops to the ground, gasping for breath. And then, Zuko leaves. He steps over the robber's hurt body and makes sure to kick dust at him, before walking just like normal, towards the Western Air Temple.

Hakoda side-eyes Chit Sang, when Zuko's a few paces in front of them and out of earshot. "Cheating is usually seen as dishonourable, isn't it?"

"Yes. Usually." They step past the robber, who lays on the ground, catching his breath.

—-

"Does your Nation usually train teenagers to brutalize thieves?" Chit Sang clenches his jaw. Hakoda knows what he's asking, however much barbed the question may be.

"The Fire Nation trains many children as soon as they show an affinity for fire" Chit Sang starts off cautiously. It's night now, and the two adults are the only ones left around the campfire. It's low and dying, with only a few embers that illuminate the gaunt contours of Hakoda's face.

The embers pulse in time to Chit Sang's breaths. "The Fire Lord's children are obviously targets for assassinations, and it's in their best interests, that they are trained to protect themselves. You've seen Princess Azula's blue fire. Her reputation precedes itself. And His Highness-" he nods towards one of the highest spirals of the Western Air Temple, where Zuko is presumed to sleep, far away from the others. "-is the heir to the throne. It's only natural he know how to defend himself."

—-

 _What_? Zuko was sure he heard Aang wrong. It was night, and they were all sitting around the campfire, in front of the Air Temple. "Excuse me?"

"I said, I'm not going to kill the Fire Lord, Zuko." The Avatar is speaking slowly, like Zuko might not understand.

The banished Prince throws his bowl of rice into the fire. The clay shatters and cracks, and the rice burns into an indistinguishable black lump. Katara stiffens, and her hand drifts to her water pouch around her waist. Sokka rubs the handle of his boomerang.

Zuko leaves the campfire.

Hakoda doubts he sleeps.

In the morning, he goes down to the market and buys a new bowl.

He still wants Aang to kill his father.

The Avatar doesn't.

—-

The Agni Kai with Azula is the most exhilarating and depressing duel Zuko's ever encountered.

He felt nothing but wicked joy, when he easily diffused her erratic flames, but even the lighting strike to the heart didn't quite hurt him the same way it did when he saw his sister bound, tied to the grates and howling for her mother.

Katara guided him towards Appa. "Come on. Our job is done here. We need to find Aang."

—-

He faces his first assassination attempt one month on the throne.

It is a paltry effort; just a single servant armed with a knife who thought he'd be asleep at his desk, instead of simply resting.

Zuko backhands him across the face and has a foot poised on their chest when guards rush into the room. Captain Zhang scratches the back of his neck. "...We'll take him away for you." The Fire Lord watches them drag the servant out of the room.

He doesn't care what happens to him.

—-

"...Hello, Ozai." Zuko is extremely uncomfortable. Maybe he should have called the guards back.

"To what do I owe the honour of the _Fire Lord_?"

"Stop playing games." His voice comes out whiny and annoying.

"I live to serve you, _your highness_." Ozai has grown sour and scornful in prison. He does not care for the fear of execution, in fact; it seems as if he's succumbed to the idea of living out his days behind bars.

"What do I do with _all these assassinations_?" Zuko runs a hand through his hair. "The Captain thinks the servant should be executed. The other guards agree, but I think they're too scared of me. Mai's with her family, and Aang-"

"If you need to call on the Avatar for every single problem in your Nation, you would get nothing done." Ozai shows no fear at interrupting his estranged son. "Just have the servant killed. He tried to kill you, after all."

"Didn't anyone try to kill you?" Zuko accuses. Perhaps he's grown bolder, or perhaps the inch-thick bars between father and son is giving him more confidence.

Ozai throws his head back and laughs. It's not a pretty sound, to say the least. "Of course. I dealt with them quick enough. I suggest you do the same."

—-

Aang writes back to Zuko. He thinks Zuko should let the servant go.

Zuko doesn't.

—-

"Hey, Azula?" Zuko clenches his fists in his lap, while his sister sits in a straight jacket across from him. It hadn't been easy to schedule an appointment with her. "Do you..ever..do you-"

"Cut to the chase, Zu-Zu" Azula drawls, just like their father.

There is a tic, below Zuko's eye. It seems disrespecting the Fire Lord runs in the family. He pinches the space between his eyes before forging on. "Did you want to beat someone up, even when you know you've won? There's just...this joy." There. He admitted it.

Azula laughs, just like Ozai-no, that is incorrect. She _howls_. Howls with laughter, howls with glee. "Obviously, Zu-Zu. Otherwise, how did you think I ended up here? _Kindness_?" Her body shakes with hilarity, and she almost falls off the chair without her tied arms to balance her.

—-

Chit Sang is promoted, to the Fire Lord's Advisor.

It is a blessing for a hardened soldier to explain the consequences of taking a life, however less innocent they may be.

Zuko listens. He tries so hard.

And when he looks back, years later, he thinks he made the right choice.

**Author's Note:**

> I've purposely left the ending somewhat vague; the servant's fate is up to you. I think it's better this way :)


End file.
